


Monster

by Attenia



Category: The Witcher, The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bipolar Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Self-Harm, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24361690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: Geralt is excellent at fighting monsters... but this monster might not be one he can fight. This is a monster within Jaskier's mind, and Geralt worries that he might finally have met his match. Trigger warning for self-harm.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 121





	Monster

Geralt didn’t understand Jaskier. Jaskier was always annoyingly cheerful, but Geralt had gotten used to that. Recently, something was different.   
For nearly a week, the bard had been even more intense than usual. He sang or chattered constantly, and seemed to have the energy of a frisky colt. He was positively joyful.  
Now, Geralt understood even less. The bard he knew was nowhere in evidence. Jaskier didn’t talk or sing. It was difficult enough for Geralt even to get him out of bed. He’d never seen Jaskier sad before, but he was sad now. Not just ordinary sad, either. This was deeper, more consuming.  
Geralt may not be very good with feelings, but even he could tell that something was wrong. He wanted to help, but he didn’t know how. Should he say something? He was terrible with words; he might just make it worse.   
“Come on, Jaskier! I have a job. Let’s go.”  
Jaskier didn’t even respond, just lying in bed and staring into space.  
Geralt whipped his blanket off. “Hurry up, before the trail gets cold.”  
“Go without me,” Jaskier mumbled.   
Geralt stood there like an idiot for several seconds, unsure what to do. Finally, he nodded. Surely Jaskier would be back to his usual cheerful self before long.   
The job went without a hitch, and Geralt washed off in the lake before he retuned for his coin, not wanting Jaskier to deal with blood and guts when he was… whatever he was right now.  
The moment he walked back into their room at the inn, he smelled it. Blood. It wasn’t the traces of blood left on him that a hasty dip in the lake couldn’t wash away. It was coming from Jaskier.  
The bard didn’t appear to have moved, but clearly he must have, if he’d managed to injure himself. Usually, Geralt wouldn’t stick his nose in Jaskier’s business, but in his present state, he worried Jaskier wouldn’t care for the wound properly. Hell, Geralt could barely get him to eat! An infection from a neglected wound hardly seemed out of the question.  
“Show me, Jaskier.”  
Jaskier turned his head a little to look at Geralt, but didn’t otherwise move. “Show you what?”  
“Where you’re injured. I’ve got a few scrapes of my own, I’ll sort yours out at the same time.”  
“I’m not injured.”  
Geralt snorted. “I can smell the blood. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle, but we need to clean it.”  
“Leave me alone, Geralt.”  
“Is it on your ass or something? Come on, this is no time to be shy! Let’s just get this over with.” Geralt never questioned Jaskier’s shyness, allowing the bard to get dressed and undressed out of sight, but now he couldn’t risk it.   
Jaskier shook his head.  
“Jaskier,” Geralt growled. He would not be put off. If Jaskier wouldn’t take care of himself, then Geralt would do it for him.   
Jaskier’s eyes went wide as Geralt advanced on him. He tried to scramble away, but the bed was against two walls, and he only ended up backing himself into a corner. “Go away!”  
Geralt was done discussing this. He grabbed Jaskier’s tunic, pulling it up over his head. Jaskier struggled, but Geralt muscled him under control. He glanced at Jaskier’s torso and arms.   
His eyes snagged on the arms.  
Both of Jaskier’s arms were injured, but Geralt had never seen injuries like this from a monster before. Thin, clean, straight cuts ran all the way down both of his inner forearms.  
What the fuck?  
“What happened, Jaskier?”  
Jaskier wasn’t struggling anymore. His bottom lip was trembling.   
Geralt’s eyes lingered on his wrists. They looked like Yennefer’s.   
“Did you… did you do this to yourself?” he asked hesitantly.   
Jaskier burst into tears.  
Fuck.  
Geralt didn’t know what to do. Jaskier curled in on himself, sobbing. He looked so utterly miserable that it hurt Geralt to see. He knew very well what the feeling in his chest was, the one that only Jaskier seemed able to draw forth, but now wasn’t the time to think about that.   
He wanted to help Jaskier, but how?  
His mind raced frantically. How to comfort a crying person?   
Hugs! Crying people like hugs, right?  
He lunged for Jaskier, catching him in a tackle. Jaskier squeaked in surprise, but his flailing had no effect. No one escaped once Geralt tackled them. He forced himself to loosen his grip a bit, reminding himself that he was trying to comfort Jaskier, not fight a monster.  
Jaskier’s arms hesitantly circled around Geralt’s waist. He sobbed even harder, struggling to draw breath as his entire body shook.   
Crap, this isn’t working. I’m just making him more upset. Way to go, Geralt.   
Geralt quickly made to retreat, but Jaskier gasped and clung to him. Geralt hesitated. “Do… what do you need?”  
Jaskier just shook his head. Great, so he didn’t know what he needed. How the fuck was Geralt supposed to know?  
“Should I stay here?”  
A nod. Well, that was something. Geralt struggled to remember what it looked like when people hugged. He moved his arms a little, holding Jaskier close to his chest. He had no idea if he was doing it right or not.  
It seemed like days before Jaskier stopped crying, though Geralt knew it couldn’t be more than an hour or so.  
His sobs slowed, and before long, Jaskier was sleeping peacefully, his head resting on Geralt’s chest.   
Sighing, Geralt maneuvered himself into a more comfortable position, planning.   
When Jaskier woke up, they would have to talk. Geralt hated talks, but he hated not knowing how to fix a problem even more. Jaskier would be doing most of the talking anyway.   
About two hours later, Jaskier stirred. He blinked up at Geralt.   
“Good, you’re awake. Now you can tell me what’s going on with you.”  
Jaskier winced. “Give a guy a chance to catch his breath.”  
“Fuck that. I do not make a habit of being useless. Now tell me what the problem is and how to fix it.”  
Jaskier laughed shakily. “You can’t fix it.”  
“Try me.”  
The bard sighed. “I suppose there’s not much point in hiding it from you anymore, not after…” Jaskier glanced down at his arms. He took a breath, visibly composing himself. He wriggled out of Geralt’s grasp. Geralt sat facing him on the bed.   
“You know I’ve always been happy. But sometimes it’s more than that. It amplifies; I’m… joyful. More than joyful. That’s great, but it always ends, and after that… it’s like my head becomes a hell. Sadness doesn’t even describe it. It’s… I don’t even know. I try to fight it, but sometimes when I can’t… this makes me feel better, for a little while.”  
He gestured to his arms. Geralt had completely forgotten the cuts, but they didn’t seem deep, at least. Another quick appraisal told him they wouldn’t any treatment; they should heal fine on their own.  
It was the hurt that couldn’t be seen that would need to be addressed.  
“Hm.” Geralt gazed at Jaskier’s arms, thinking. So he was fighting something in his own mind. That, Geralt could do. He fought monsters all the time.   
“We just need to find a way to kill it.”  
“What?”  
Had he said that out loud?  
“The monster in your mind. We need to kill it.”  
“You do realize that this isn’t an actual monster? You can’t kill my brain.”  
“We need weapons,” Geralt continued, ignoring Jaskier’s doubt. “What I did yesterday – did that help at all?”  
“It did,” Jaskier admitted shyly. “I never thought you were the hugging type.”  
Geralt ignored this. “What else is it vulnerable to?”  
“I don’t know. I mean, singing helps, but when I’m feeling like this, I can’t think of lyrics or tunes. I’ve tried.”  
“We’ll make a plan for that. Ok, so singing and hugging to keep it at bay, but what will kill it?”  
“Only time,” Jaskier said sadly. “And it always comes back.”  
Geralt didn’t like knowing that there was an enemy out there that could come back at any time, but even that wasn’t an insurmountable problem. “Alright, then we fortify. Make the battlements stronger, so that the next time it attacks, it’s easier to turn away.”  
“The battlements?”  
Geralt gestured vaguely to Jaskier’s head. “Inside. What makes you stronger, more secure?”  
Jaskier blushed, but didn’t say anything.  
“Now is not the time to be shy, Jaskier.”  
“I – well, I guess you do. You’re always like this pillar of strength that nothing can touch. I often think that if I could just get you inside me, it would chase away the monster for good. Fuck, now you even have me calling it a monster!”  
“Hm. I’m not sure how we can get that to work.”   
“I’m tired, Geralt. Can we talk about this later?”  
Jaskier had only just woken up, but he did look exhausted.   
“Of course.” Geralt went over to his own bed, glancing out of the window. It was just past nightfall. Geralt waited for Jaskier’s breathing to slow, making sure he was asleep before finally allowing sleep to take him too.  
The next morning was better. Jaskier washed and ate without protest, even engaged in some conversation. Geralt had planned to move on after the job, but with Jaskier as he was, he didn’t want to do that.   
Jaskier’s mood seemed to deteriorate badly after a few hours, and by lunch time, Geralt could see that the monster had him.   
Right, he could do this. Hugs and singing.   
“Jaskier, time to sing.”  
“Don’t want to sing.”  
“Too bad. Your voice will go out of tune if you don’t practice. Come on, make me up a ballad of our most recent adventures.”  
“Can’t,” Jaskier whispered. He looked like he might cry.   
Fuck no, not again. I can’t stand seeing him cry.  
“Sing along with me, then. ‘Toss a coin to your witcher, oh valley of plenty’…” Geralt purposefully sang atrociously, his notes flat and completely out of tune.  
Jaskier’s nose scrunched in frustration. “You’re mutilating my masterpiece. ‘He pushed every elf far back on the shelf’…”  
Jaskier kept singing, even after Geralt went quiet. The moment he finished that song, Geralt started another one for him. He could tell when it started working. The sadness slowly seemed to lift from Jaskier’s eyes – not completely, but enough. He even laughed a few times as Geralt butchered some of his best lines.  
“There you go.” Geralt smiled at Jaskier, who smiled back. Maybe this would be enough. Maybe the monster would leave Jaskier be for now.   
“How long does this usually go on for?”  
“No idea. I kind of lose track of time when it happens.”  
Wonderful, so they may be battling this for weeks. Geralt just hoped that the singing had scared the monster away for long enough to give Jaskier a bit of a break.   
When they went to bed that night, Jaskier was, if not cheerful, at least not overly sad.   
Geralt was woken up during the night by the soft sound of footsteps. He pushed himself up on an elbow. Jaskier was going over to his bag. Geralt caught a flash of light, glinting off a blade.  
“Jaskier, no!”  
He lunged for Jaskier, snatching the blade away from him.  
“Geralt, please. I need to.”  
“No, you don’t.”  
“I do – I can’t – you don’t know what it’s like –”  
Geralt may not know what it was like, but he could well see the desperation on Jaskier’s face. Hugging and singing didn’t seem to last long. He had to figure out a strategy that would give Jaskier more time.   
What was that Jaskier had said? I often think that if I could just get you inside me, it would chase away the monster for good.  
It came to him in a stroke of brilliance.  
Geralt grabbed Jaskier’s face and kissed him. Jaskier melted into the kiss… for a few seconds. Then he pulled away with a gasp.  
“Geralt, stop! You don’t need to do this just to make me feel better.”  
“You think it’s just that? I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, Jaskier. It – it just never seemed like the right time. Unless – unless you don’t want it?”  
“I do,” Jaskier breathed. His eyes surveyed Geralt’s face, and he found only the truth there.   
This time, Jaskier initiated the kiss. It was soft at first, but then more insistent. Geralt pressed his tongue against Jaskier’s lips, demanding entrance.   
Jaskier granted it eagerly. The knife lay forgotten on the floor as Geralt carried Jaskier to the bed. He slowly undressed the bard, kissing every inch of skin he could reach. Jaskier’s shyness was nowhere in evidence now. Geralt knew the secret of his arms. There was no need to hide.  
Geralt stripped swiftly, taking none of the care he did in removing Jaskier’s clothes. Jaskier’s eyes were on his cock from the moment it emerged, hard and leaking slightly.   
There was saddle oil in his bag, and Geralt smothered his hand in it before returning to Jaskier. “Spread your legs.”  
Jaskier did so eagerly. Geralt traced his hole, loving how the bard shivered under his touch. He slowly pushed one finger into Jaskier’s ass. Jaskier moaned slightly, pushing against the finger. Geralt pumped in and out a few times before adding another.  
He scissored the fingers back and forth, stretching Jaskier wide open. He knew exactly when he hit Jaskier’s pleasure spot, because the bard gasped and ground desperately down onto Geralt’s fingers.   
Geralt chuckled, adding a third finger. He leaned down and gave Jaskier’s cock a long lick.   
“Fuck, Geralt…”  
“You have that right.”  
Geralt positioned himself above Jaskier, then slowly pushed inside him. He paused, waiting for Jaskier to become accustomed to his cock. When the bard nodded, Geralt started moving.  
He went slowly at first, but he couldn’t restrain himself for long. He ran his hands over Jaskier’s chest, brushing across his nipples, before coming to rest on his cock. Geralt started pumping it in time with his thrusts.   
The noises Jaskier was making were driving him wild. Geralt grabbed the bard’s legs, positioning them on his shoulders.   
That did the trick. His cock started hitting Jaskier’s pleasure center with every thrust. Jaskier screamed Geralt’s name as his cock let loose. Thick strands of come hit Jaskier’s belly. His ass contracted wildly around Geralt’s cock, which pushed Geralt over the edge.   
He growled as he came, catching Jaskier’s lips in a scorching kiss.  
Spent, he fell to the side. The two of them lay like that, catching their breath. Geralt used the blanket to clean up the worst of the mess before tossing it aside. Jaskier snuggled up next to him, using Geralt’s shoulder as a pillow.  
“I love you.”  
Fuck. It had to come back to words. Geralt sucked ass at words. He had to do it, though, for Jaskier.   
“I love you too.”  
Jaskier looked up at him, searching his face for any hint of a lie. He found none. The bard smirked. “Thought witches didn’t have feelings?”  
“So did I,” Geralt muttered. “You’ve turned me into a freak of nature.”  
Jaskier didn’t stop smiling for a week.  
Geralt slowly relaxed, beyond relieved to see Jaskier’s usual personality re-emerging. It was when the bard started singing again that Geralt knew things were truly getting back to normal.  
“I guess we’ve sent that monster packing.”  
Jaskier’s smile faded a little. “For now. It’ll come back.”  
Geralt shrugged. “When it does, I’ll be ready to tackle it into submission.”  
“Yes, your hugs do feel rather like tackles. Good thing I have strong ribs.”  
“Or if that doesn’t work, you can scare it away with your singing.”  
Jaskier threw a pine cone at him, which Geralt caught easily. “Or if that doesn’t work, I’ll fuck it so hard that it won’t be able to walk straight for a year.”  
“Hm, that sounds like quite a feat. I’m not sure you’ll be able to do it. Perhaps you need some practice?”  
“I’ll show you practice.”  
Geralt lunged for Jaskier, pinning him to the ground and capturing his lips in a kiss.


End file.
